A New Day
by niklovr
Summary: AU. Carol & Tyreese's infamous New Year's Eve party could be minus 4 guests. Two wonder if now is the right time to reveal their secret romance while the other couple are victims of unfortunate events. A very short tale of friendship, unrequited love, & love fulfilled. [Rick & Michonne] [Daryl & Sasha]
1. Part 1

Part 1

Sasha Williams made a detour to the break room to check the holiday weekend schedule again. Everyone accused her of OCD tendencies and she didn't deny it. How could she when she had already entered her days at the fire station in her iPhone calendar? But with her crew, she liked to know ahead of time who would be on shift with her, too. New Year's Eve brought out the stupid in people and if a call came in, she wanted the good ones on the truck with her. Not the two knuckleheads who used the firefighter gig as a way to pick up women.

"What the hell?" she muttered.

Zack Turner, a newbie, came up behind her. "How did you score that?"

"It's not a score," she said.

According to the schedule, as of seven a.m., she had the next five days off and that included the dreaded holiday weekend. She should have known that her brother, Tyreese had been serious about his threat. For the past four years, she had intentionally missed the infamous New Year's Eve party that he and his wife Carol threw without fail. His friendship with her Fire Chief wasn't supposed to cause problems of favoritism, but once her brother decided something, nothing short of an apocalypse could make him change his mind.

She slid behind the wheel of her black F-150 pick up and reminded herself not to race into traffic. The urge to confront Tyreese was strong. His habit of interfering in her life had only gotten worse since she hadn't snapped out of her self-imposed isolation within his time frame. She understood that he wanted her to move on but he couldn't dictate the when or the how. It was her call.

By mid-morning, her annoyance refused to fade. She donned a sweater, her favorite pair of jeans and combat boots and headed to her brother's impressive two-story brick home in Dunwoody, a small suburb north of Atlanta. Christmas decorations littered the drive. This year the color scheme was blue, white, and silver. Everything sparkled and looked so damn cheerful. She shook her head and scolded herself. When had she become the Grinch?

She parked behind her brother's Escalade and headed to the back door. Tyreese stood with his cell phone to his ear. He saw her and waved her in. While barking orders into the phone, he pulled her into a bear hug.

The smell of gingerbread lingered, serving to remind her that she hadn't eaten all day. Of course, the cookie jar was empty. Tyreese pointed to the bag on the counter. Inside, she found a container of snacks. She pulled out a couple of sugar cookies that were Carol's specialty. She munched on them while she waited for her brother to end his call.

He pocketed his cell phone. "Hey, baby girl. You're later than I expected."

"Am I so predictable?"

He laughed. "Not so much apparently. Look, about the schedule… Abraham owed me a favor so I called one in. You know how we do."

"You and Abe have been a pain in my ass since I was a kid," Sasha said, "but that doesn't mean you should continue. I volunteered to take those hours. It's not fair that someone else is getting screwed—"

"You worked Christmas and Thanksgiving, too. No one was getting screwed, but you," her brother argued. His big brown eyes had the wildness in them that signaled there was no getting through to him.

She sighed. "Why is the house so quiet? Where are the girls?"

"Carol took Lizzie and Mika to the cabin."

The two preteens were fairly new additions to the Williams household. Tyreese and Carol adopted the girls when their parents were killed in a car accident two years ago. The adoption hadn't been easy, but in the end, the four made a wonderful family. Sasha was happy for them. She knew that Tyreese had always wanted children and he and Carol were great parents.

"So the party is off?" Sasha couldn't mask the hopefulness from her voice.

Tyreese heard and chuckled. "Nope. The party has been moved to the cabin."

"You're expecting fifty people to drive all the way out there in the dark and back?" she asked. "Highway Patrol's gonna love you."

"If you would read Carol's emails or return my texts," he said, "you'd know that the party is a sleepover this year. We're downsizing. Not fifty, but just a small number of our select nearest and dearest."

"Oh. Great."

"Only the cool kids got an invite this year," he said with his trademark, charming smile. "You'll be sorry you missed it."

"I doubt it."

"Sasha, Bob would have wanted you to move on."

"Dammit, Tyreese!" She started to pace. "This isn't about him. I know he's dead. I know he isn't coming back."

"But do you know that after four years, it's time to live again?" he asked.

"We were going to be married." She stopped walking to look out the window. It wasn't fair that someone who had such a positive outlook on life was dead while others lived. Sometimes she wondered why it was him instead of her. "You don't understand."

"I do." He placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. "Probably more than you realize. Come out tonight. Even if you just stay in your room. Be with us. I miss my baby sister."

His words stunned her. For years, they only argued about this. The softness was different. She covered his hand with hers. "I'll think about it."

"It's better than nothing."

*&+%$^

Daryl Dixon parked the Harley in a prime spot in front of the corner Starbucks. He hated the trendy coffee shop and the stares he got from the baristas when he strolled in. The shit annoyed him, but when a friend was doing him a favor, he could put up with stupid for a few minutes out of his day.

He ordered a grande Americano and a venti skinny Peppermint Mocha with whipped cream. He took both to a secluded table in the corner where he had a view of the street and the front door. The Americano warmed his insides from the brisk winter day of riding. His cell phone vibrated in his jeans pocket. He glanced at the caller id and sighed.

"Whassup, Carol?"

"I'm not sure about your tone," she said. "It doesn't sound like your happy voice."

He released a faint laugh. "You always sound happy enough for everybody."

"Did you get everything worked out?" she asked.

"I'm not sure, yet. Michonne's running late. Traffic's a bitch today."

"Good thing you're not on speaker," Carol said, pretending to scold him.

"You know better. Tell the girls hi."

He heard rustling movement. "Uncle Daryl sends greetings of tidings and joy."

"I did not!" he said.

Carol laughed. "Lizzie and Mika return the same to you. They're asking if you're coming tonight. They want to know if you're bringing a date."

"Right," he grumbled. "Sounds more like their mama with her nosy ass."

"Don't deflect. Are you?"

Daryl stiffened. He hated when she started to pry into his love life, such as it was. To his regret, she already knew far more than he wanted. A late night, a few too many beers, and he dropped his guard. Carol dove in like a hawk attacking prey. She figured out shit that he had tried to conceal for years. Now that she knew, she dogged him worse than his brother, Merle, ever did back when Daryl kept stashes of weed hidden at the garage.

"Daryl—"

"I'm thinking about it. Tonight's usually good for business. All that towing. I'll need it for the trouble Merle's gotten into," he said. "We'll see."

"She's coming this time," Carol said quietly.

The few words left him winded. He gripped the phone so tight that he feared breaking it. He willed himself to relax and drew in measured breaths.

"She always works…" Daryl swallowed hard. "It don't matter. She ain't ready, and the time's not right."

"That's fear talking. You have to—"

"Hey, friend!" Michonne arrived and tossed her briefcase into an empty chair. She reached for the Peppermint Mocha. "You're the best."

"I gotta go. Michonne's here." He ended the call before Carol's matchmaking rant drifting toward the new arrival. He stuck the phone in his pocket and watched her savor the dessert coffee. She had a way of making anything chocolate seem like the most decadent experience ever. He couldn't help but grin at her antics.

"That hit the spot. Come January…oh, hell," Michonne said. "I'll never give up chocolate."

Daryl laughed. "You wouldn't be you if you did. Sorry to get ya out in the cold."

"Shut up about that." She waved off his concerns. "How are you?"

He shrugged. "Fine."

"You look stressed."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "I'll never be a _GQ_ model with this mug. Don't worry about me—"

"You're my friend. Not your brother. I'm taking his case for you," Michonne said. "So that we're clear, he doesn't deserve you."

Daryl twirled his cup of Americana between his fingers. Like the conversation with Carol, he and Michonne had been through this before. They met years ago when she first graduated from law school. He needed legal advice for his garage and she was doing pro bono work at the library. Normally, he hated uptight lawyers, but they got along. Next to Rick Grimes and Carol Peletier-Williams, Michonne Martin was his closet friend.

"Are you listening?" she asked.

"Everybody in this damn place is listening," he muttered.

"Exaggerate much," she replied with a smile.

"He ain't got nobody else," Daryl said his usual response. "How bad is it this time?"

"Bad. Possession of crystal meth and an AK-47 plus the assault on the arresting officers…Merle is looking at new digs at GSP."

Georgia State Prison was the maximum-security facility in the state. Merle had never been there before. The lockup in Atlanta had always been his temporary detour. Daryl's mind went blank. His brother had a habit of doing stupid shit, but his latest trick was by far the dumbest.

"What are his chances?"

"I'm doing everything I can, but the DA wants to make an example of him." She reached out and patted his hand. "I _am_ trying."

"Don't try so hard."

She frowned. "What?"

"I mean it," Daryl said. "He's my brother, but maybe this is what he needs."

"Really?" Her face registered her disbelief.

"Yeah." He took her hand and squeezed. "Do what you can, but don't let it ruin your time off. I know you have plans."

"You do?"

"Tyreese and Carol's party. You're going, right?" Daryl said. "You always go."

"Yeah," she said with a faint smile. "I always go. Are you going?"

"Maybe. Tonight's a good night to make money."

"Or it's a good night to have your wishes come true."

Daryl laughed. "Yeah, right."


	2. Part 2

Part 2

Michonne tried to ignore the twinges of guilt that attacked her as she watched her toddler, Andre Anthony play on the floor with his cousin Alicia. The little girl, his elder by two years, handed him blocks with authority and to Michonne's surprise, her son accepted the offering with a toothy smile. Her pregnant sister Jacqui returned with cookies and milk for everyone. The kids didn't budge from their creations on the floor.

"Thank you, but are you sure he won't be too much?" Michonne asked. "I feel bad about leaving him with you on New Year's Eve."

"He and Theodore get along like long lost best friends," Jacqui said. "Don't worry at all. He may tear up a bit when you leave, but he'll be fine in less than five minutes. Trust me. Go out tonight. Do your thing."

"How are you feeling?"

Jacqui smiled. "Fine. Alicia is a good helper during the day and T does everything when he comes home."

"Is he upset about missing the party?"

"Not too much. Carol promises it will be low-key this year so he and Tyreese can't get into any mess."

The two sisters laughed. The two men retired from the Atlanta Falcons several years ago and now owned an upscale soul food restaurant in Buckhead where Theo "T-Dog" Douglas served as chef as well as owner. Theo and Tyreese had recently met with Michonne to discuss opening another restaurant in New Orleans. No decision had been made, yet, but it seemed like a definite plan.

"What color is your dress?" Jacqui leaned against the sofa and rubbed her hands along her swollen belly.

"I can't decide between red or gold. Remember those shoes I bought this summer? They're making the decision a hard one," Michonne confided.

"You'll drive him crazy whichever outfit you choose." The older sister shook her head. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. I wonder if I'll ever get my body back."

"Your body is fine."

Jacqui laughed. "I suppose it is. Anyway, I don't want to rush you, but he's distracted so…"

Michonne nodded. "Call me if you need me."

"What can you do fifty miles away at the cabin?"

Michonne shrugged. "Come back."

Jacqui laughed again. "Theo and I got this. Have fun tonight. You have to because I said so."

Michonne headed to her condo in Stone Mountain. Traffic hadn't gotten better since her meeting with Daryl. Because of stop and go, the drive took close to an hour when it normally was fifteen minutes. During the extra time, she thought of her friend. He accepted the news better than his brother had. After a tirade where Merle proceeded to invent profanity, he threatened to fire her. But since he hadn't hired her or paid a dime for her services, she blew him off. Merle Dixon was nothing like his brother and while she tried not to relate to him as the scum of the earth, she hated how bad he was for her dear friend. A few years in lockup would be good for both brothers, but as she promised Daryl, she'd do everything she could to make sure Merle received the best deal possible.

By the time, she tossed her keys onto the marble kitchen countertop, her smartphone was buzzing like crazy. She smiled as she read the caller id. "Hello, handsome."

"Don't sweet talk me, beautiful," Rick said. "I heard about your meeting with Dixon."

"Which one?"

"Merle," Rick bit out. "The worthless piece of shit. They could hear his ranting all the way downstairs. If I had been in the building, I would've—"

"Good thing you weren't," she said. "I handled him."

"I'll handle him," Rick said. "Yelling at you. Cursing like a damned maniac. Imma kick his fucking ass for talking to you like that."

"Rick, I'm not a dainty flower. I've heard worse."

He continued on as if he hadn't heard her and she hated to admit that she enjoyed every second of it. His protective streak was sexy. If he were there instead of somewhere else, the tirade would end in a satisfying, sweaty conclusion. But he wasn't there. And she wasn't getting worked up for nothing. So she had to put a stop to him before excitement led to frustration.

"I'm okay," she said softly. "He didn't hurt me."

Finally, he paused. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said. "I took Andy to Jacqui's. He and Alicia are like two peas in a pod. How's Carl?"

"He and Dominik are spending the night with Duane. They're ringing in the New Year with a marathon of Grand Theft Auto. The son of a sheriff's deputy is an expert car thief."

"Gamer car thief," Michonne corrected. "What happened to the sleepover at Lori's?"

"She and Shane are having problems, so she reneged," Rick said. "Carl didn't want to go anyway and Morgan came up with this great idea to have the boys over."

"Morgan has to be the best baseball coach ever," she said.

"He says Carl has the best pitcher's arm that he's ever seen," Rick bragged.

"I know."

"Told you, huh?"

She laughed. "Maybe once or twice."

"A call's coming through. Gotta take it. See you soon."

Michonne anticipated that event.

*&+%$^

Rick Grimes hated domestic violence calls. The holidays always brought out the worst in people. He sometimes wondered if they held everything in and after twelve months of doing so, the emotions overwhelmed them and the dam burst. As much as he hated DV calls, he hated the ones where he knew the people. Especially when he had been married to one of them.

He parked in the driveway of his former two-story white-framed house. Even from the street, he could hear the raised voices. He called it in and requested backup. Since leaving the force, Shane could be a handful and Rick was not about to let his former best friend ruin his night.

With his weapon drawn, he entered the open front door. "Lori! Shane! It's Rick!"

"Thank God." Lori hurried from the kitchen to meet Rick in the living room. "He won't listen. Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

"What's going on? Has he hit you?"

"Dammit, Rick!" Shane came storming in. "What kind of sumbitch do you think I am? I'd never put my hands on her! Did she tell you I did? Is that what you're telling him, Lori? What the fuck, Lori?"

"See!" She waved her hands at Shane and moved behind Rick. "This is what I'm talking about."

"Is this what's happening when Carl is over?" Rick asked. "What the hell is wrong with you two?"

"She ain't happy with nothing I do," Shane said. "Not a damned thing I do is good enough—"

"That's not true. I just think you can do better than a security job at the mall. Is it wrong of me to want better for you?"

"I'm the director of security at the motherfucking mall, Lori!" Shane fired back. "See, man. She makes it sound like I'm the damn Robocop or some shit."

"But you—"

"The two of you need to calm down," Rick said in the most neutral tone he could muster.

Lori's affair with Shane had ruined their marriage. For a time, Carl had been a wreck as bad as Rick. In time, they had gotten over it. Michonne had been the answer for both of them. For years, Lori had been jealous of his friendship with the defense attorney. Back then she had nothing to worry about. If she knew how things had changed, Rick knew Lori well enough to know that his ex, despite her second marriage, would not take him moving on so well.

Rick encouraged Mr. and Mrs. Walsh to sit and talk in quiet tones. When the other deputies arrived, he debriefed them on the porch. A glance at his watch worried him. He was supposed to be off hours ago. Leave it to Lori to fuck up his plans.

By the time he got home, showered, and dressed in his finest, he was several hours late. Michonne greeted him at her door in the most gorgeous gold gown, but it was no match in comparison to the dazzling smile she gave him when he stepped inside.

He kicked the door shut while pulling her into his arms. Kissing had become a major priority in their relationship, but for the moment, he simply wanted to enjoy the feel of her in his arms. Damn, how could a woman be both fragile and solid at once? His hand splayed her bare back, reveling in the ripple of her muscles as she shivered at his touch.

She pressed her hands against his neck. He pulled her closer and she giggled.

"You're so beautiful. I could look at you all night."

Her luminous brown eyes. Generous, full lips. Smooth, dark skin. Rick hadn't fed her a line. Looking at her gave him great joy. She had a quiet gracefulness about her that filled him up. He often had a hard time believing how easily their friendship had transitioned into so much more.

"Rick…"

Then he bent forward and claimed her mouth. Soft pecks gave way to a deeper exploration. His tongue knew all the sweet spots and her little moans only intensified his passion. As usual, one hand captured the back of her head and the other grasped her rear. She tugged his hair and that was the signal for him to either lay her down or pull away.

"We're late," he said, kissing her cheek, her neck, and her earlobe. "Sitting in traffic is dumb when we can stay here."

"Hmm…" She rubbed his chest and then she pushed back. "We're in the foyer. Do you know how scandalous this is?"

He shrugged. "I don't care. You make it impossible for me to think straight."

Michonne laughed. He ogled the sway of her hips as she moved to the living room. As if hypnotized by her, he followed without argument.

"Sit." She indicated the sofa.

He obeyed and pointed to his lap where a tent in his slacks did a poor job of hiding his erection. "Climb aboard."

"Not so fast, cowboy." She pulled the coffee table close and sat on the edge. "What are we doing, Grimes?"

"If it's not obvious, I'm doing something wrong."

"You know what I mean," she said with a smile. "We had a plan for tonight. Is that delayed for another time?"

Rick scratched his beard as he nodded. "Oh, yeah. Our coming out party. We could take a selfie and post it on Instagram."

"Be serious." She placed her hand on his knees. "They're our friends and we've been hiding our relationship from them for almost a year. I don't want to lie anymore."

"Neither do I." Rick held their hands and intertwined their fingers. "I'm not ashamed of us. In the beginning, we wanted to be sure. Then there was Carl. His crush on you couldn't be ignored."

"No, and there was Lori who's always hated me—"

"And Mike who wasn't ready to let you go," Rick cut in.

"A lot of complications," she said, "but maybe now isn't the right time…"

"It is," Rick said. "It's right. If we leave now, we'll get there a little after midnight. We'll shut it down."

Her smile was the affirmation that he needed that this was the right call. After everything went to hell with Lori, he had to be sure about the next one. Falling in love with Michonne Martin had blown his mind and shown him that love didn't have to be crazy or impossibly complicated. They fit together far better than he and Lori ever had, not that he would trade the time with her because of that, they had a beautiful son. Still, Rick imagined a far better future with Michonne. The four of them, (he, her, and their two boys) would one day be a family and coming out to their friends would be the first step in that direction.


	3. Part 3

Part 3

The one thing that Sasha hated about driving to Tyreese's cabin at night was the complete darkness. Without taillights in front of her and headlights in the rearview mirror, she felt as if she was in space. Just a single being adrift in the outer limits of the universe. If she hadn't felt alone before, this drive certainly reinforced that feeling.

She turned on the radio and Bruno Mars seemed determined to energize her with his version of neo-funk. Despite her attempts otherwise, she hummed along and sung what she thought were the lyrics of the chorus. Just as she was getting into it, the truck began to stall. The dashboard revealed little clues that she could understand. She grabbed her phone and hoped he would answer.

"Hey," Daryl said, "Sasha. What's up?"

"Hi, Daryl. I hate to bother you—"

"You're no bother. C'mon. You know that. You okay?"

"My truck is tripping. I'm headed to the cabin and the damn thing—Oh shit. It just stopped. I don't know what's wrong with it. I'm at least twenty-five miles out. Look, I'll call Tyreese—"

"Hold on!" Daryl said. "I'm headed that way. Just chill. I'll be there in about thirty. You okay out there? Turn your flashers on."

"I'm the only one out here."

"Doesn't matter," he said. "Just be safe 'til I get there."

"Yessir, Mr. Dixon."

He laughed. "You know I hate when you call me that."

"I know."

"Um…so you're coming this year," Daryl said. "I bet Tyreese is glad to hear it."

"He turned Abraham against me."

"He did what?" he asked. "What happened at the station?"

"I still have a job."

"Good. For a minute there, I thought he'd gotten you fired or some shit."

"My brother ain't crazy," Sasha said. "All hell would break loose if he did that. Besides, Abraham likes me."

"Does he?" There was a bite to his question. "I didn't know it was like that."

"Like what?"

"Nothin'," Daryl mumbled.

"The schedule's set in advance but this morning, I'm suddenly free for the next five days," she said. "If I didn't like my house, I'd put in a transfer."

"Don't do that. You got friends there, right?"

"Yeah, but I don't like Tyreese meddling. He and Abraham have been tight since forever. If I had known he'd come over to my station, I would have… Maybe I would have taken that job in King's County."

Sasha remembered when the offer came through. It had been soon after Bob's unexpected death, which had occurred just two weeks before their wedding date. She would never forget Rick coming to the station to tell her the outcome of Bob trying to intervene at a domestic violence call. Bob had been one of those EMTs who were born to help.

"Sasha?"

"Hmm…?"

"Said I'm glad you didn't move away," Daryl said quietly. "It wouldn't have been the same if you left."

She smiled. His gentle admission didn't come easily, so she appreciated him saying the words aloud. Back when she was thinking about buying a motorcycle, Daryl was her first choice for advice. Their relationship had evolved slowly in the beginning. When her brother met Carol, Daryl seemed to be part of the package. Carol and the Dixon brothers had been in the same foster home for about a year when they were kids. While Merle was a hardcase for most, Carol and Daryl stayed tight. Sasha was convinced that if Tyreese hadn't passed Daryl's test, her brother never would have married the love of his life.

Sasha's conversation with Daryl continued, but in the back of her mind, she thought about the history of their relationship. How she was loud while he was quiet, but that never seemed to deter him whenever she had a request or wanted to rant about her brother's overprotectiveness. She couldn't count the number of times she had called him and he came without question. Nor had she questioned why she had called him first instead of other friends or family. After Bob's death, Daryl sat with her for hours. He didn't say a word. He just sat there. When the tears finally came, he held her close and rocked her slow.

She pressed her balled fist to her mouth as her breathing quickened. His arms had felt so perfect around her. As if he knew the correct way to hold her, had been born knowing. Then other thoughts jumbled in. She remembered how she had always admired the way he moved with smooth, measured confidence. At first glance, his shyness could be off putting, but beneath the surface, there was so much more. She wondered why she hadn't noticed before.

*&+%$^

The drive to the lakeside cabin was quiet. Daryl found himself out of words after being on the phone with Sasha his entire drive. At least that's what he told himself at first, but the closer they got to the cabin, he made himself admit that the way she was looking at him made him warm. It was all he could do to hook her truck to the tow properly. Sitting with her in the cabin smelling all sweet and spicy was damn near driving him nuts. She hadn't dressed for the party, but she still looked damned fine in her tight jeans and black v-neck sweater that teased him with hints of her cleavage. He clutched the steering wheel and fumbled with the radio dial to distract himself from saying or doing something stupid.

"Were you planning to go the party?" she asked.

"I hadn't decided, yet," he murmured. "Going to sleepover like I'm twelve…wasn't sure about it, you know?"

"Could be fun," Sasha said. "I hate that you're driving me all the way there. You could have just taken me back to Atlanta."

"You were headed to the party," Daryl said. "That's where I'm taking you."

"But it's out of your way."

"Who says it is?"

"I just thought…"

He glanced at her and gave her a faint smile. "Anyone ever tell you that you think too much? I'm good, Sasha. It's cool."

"I hate that I could be messing up your night. It's New Year's Eve."

"You're not," he told her. "My New Year's Eve is just fine."

The cabin driveway was less crowded than he expected. If he hadn't been to the cabin several times, he would have thought the address was wrong. Streamers and shit hung on the gate. Lights flickered all around. But the lack of cars concerned him. Daryl pulled close to the garage and parked. Both he and Sasha exited the tow truck and headed to the front door. There they found a note addressed to Sasha taped to the door handle. Daryl peeled it off and gave it to her. He unlocked the door with his key.

"What the hell?" he murmured under his breath.

Unlit white candles covered every flat surface. Logs waited in the fireplace. Champagne sat in a bucket of ice. Roses were strewn everywhere. Daryl cursed Carol for her meddling and headed to the fireplace. He set to lighting the fire and hoping that Sasha wouldn't hate him when she figured out the scene.

"I'm scared to read the note," she said. "What is all this?"

"Don't know." Daryl had never taken this long with a fire before in his life. If he could, he would take all night. He dreaded facing her. He told Carol that Sasha wasn't ready. Hell, maybe he wasn't either.

"I should just read it," she said, half to herself. "When you finish, could you come here? I have a feeling that I shouldn't read this alone."

"It was your name on it," he said. "Probably something personal in it."

"Please."

The single word got to him. Not only that, but the way she say it. Sasha never begged or pleaded for anything. She was a rock even when she needed to let go. He lit the fire, wiped his hands on his jeans, and went to her. She had left room for him on the sofa so he joined her there. His breathing came hard and uneven. His unease matched the wary expression on her pretty face. He extended his hand palm up.

"I'll read it if you want."

She shoved the note into his hand. "Thanks."

He opened the letter and read Carol's flowery handwriting.

_'Dear Sasha and Daryl,_

_Due to unforeseen events, Abraham is hosting the party at his cabin. Oops. Sorry we weren't able to reach you in time. Enjoy the cabin. Enjoy yourselves. _

_Love, _

_Carol and Tyreese'_

Daryl stared at the floor several seconds before he mustered the nerve to look at Sasha. Her expression was unreadable.

"I'm so sorry, Daryl. I had no idea they'd do something like this and if Tyreese did something to my truck…"

"It's okay." He folded the note and set it on the end table. "It's cool."

"No, it isn't. You weren't even planning to come. I don't know what gets into their heads. Meddling in my life is bad enough, but now they're interfering with you," she said. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you—"

"Well," Daryl cut in, "you could start by stop apologizing."

He didn't know how he felt about the set up or the note, but he was certain that he hated Sasha's guilt. She hadn't done a damn thing wrong. If anything, he was at fault for trusting Carol with his secret. He had told her that Sasha wasn't ready. Hell, maybe all he'd ever be to her was friend. If that was so, then so be it.

He rose from the sofa and headed to the kitchen. In there, the sound of sleet hitting the roof was rhythmic and hypnotic. The last few miles to the cabin were over a curvy hill. Driving back now in pitch darkness was suicide. If he was on his bike, he'd take the risk, but not in the tow truck.

His stomach rumbled as the smell of strawberries assaulted his senses. He washed his hands in the sink. When he finished, he heard a click and then music came over the speakers. "All of Me" was the John Legend song that always made him think of Sasha. He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. Those meddling matchmakers had thought of everything.

"Daryl?"

He hadn't heard her approach, but she stood right behind him. "Yeah?" This time he could read the uncertainty in her brown eyes. "What is it?"

"Wanna dance?"

"Umm…" He looked at the slender hand she extended toward him. Before he could think twice, his hand held hers and they were on the vacant floor space. "I'm not a dancer."

"Just put your hands here." She placed them at her waist. "I'll put mine here." She set hers on his shoulders. "Just like this."

_'And I'm so dizzy, _

_don't know what hit me, _

_but I'll be alright_…'

"I love this song," Daryl said.

"Me too." She smiled. Her brown eyes were bright and clear as she stared at him. "It's beautiful."

"Doesn't compare to you," he said, feeling a sudden burst of courage.

"You're sweet—"

"No, I ain't," he said. "I… I know why Carol did this and I'm sorry if it makes you feel weird. It's my fault. They did this 'cause of me."

"What do you mean?"

They stopped dancing as another song started playing, but neither noticed the music or the lyrics. Both were too attuned to each other. Daryl wished he could turn back, but he didn't want to start another year with this secret hanging between them.

"I care about you, Sasha. Probably more than I should. I've been waiting, but I guess Carol decided my time was up."

"You should have told me," she said.

He bit his lip as he shook his head. "You weren't ready."

She nodded. "You're right. I wasn't."

He stepped away from her. "I'm sorry about," he waved his hands, "all this. I'd leave, but it's sleeting."

"You don't have to go." She took his hands. "I wasn't ready before, but I think I'm ready now."

"You don't have to say that."

"I'm not. I wouldn't." She smiled. "You know I wouldn't."

An alarm clock beeped. Daryl noticed that the ten-second countdown for the New Year had begun. They looked at each other and counted. To his surprise, she puckered and leaned forward. As if compelled, he bent down and took her mouth in a gentle, thorough first kiss of the New Year.

"Yeah?" he asked after he raised his head.

"Yeah."

Then, he cupped her face and drew her to him again. In the back of his mind, he registered that her fingers dug into his shoulders. The tips of her breasts pushed against his chest. He kissed her, long and deep, as his tongue tasted the sweetness of her mouth. Low moans emitted from the back of her throat. The sounds vibrated through Daryl. He used to imagine this, but his fantasies had never been as good as this. Her wanting him as much as he wanted her were all his wishes coming true at the stroke of midnight.

Later after hours of sitting together on the sofa—hours of talking, drinking champagne, and more kissing—their phones vibrated with text messages. They both looked at the same attached photo and laughed.

"We're not the only ones beginning a new day with someone special," Sasha said.

"It's about time Rick and Michonne came clean," Daryl replied. "I had my suspicions about them a while ago. They ain't as slick as they think they are."

"I had a feeling about them, too," Sasha agreed.

"Wonder if folks'll be saying the same about us?" he asked, drawing circles in the palm of her hand.

She leaned against him, her legs resting casually across his thighs. "Everybody will."

Daryl smiled. He didn't care what the others thought or how many "I knew it's" were tossed in their direction. All that mattered was Sasha greeted the New Year with a smile on her face and so did he.

The End

**[A/N: Thanks for reading! The story is a little late for New Year's but the characters wouldn't leave me alone! So, here it is. Feedback is appreciated. :-) ****]**


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